


Advice

by sunwukong



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 20:44:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunwukong/pseuds/sunwukong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryoga asks IV for some help. IV offers an alternate solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Advice

**Author's Note:**

> For the fanworkathon. Prompt: For some reason, Ryoga goes to Thomas for love advice.

“So you wanted to talk to me because...”  
  
Ryoga shifts uncomfortably in his seat, fiddling with the locket around his neck and averting his eyes. IV sits across from him, plastic cups of milk tea and a shared basket of french fries laid out on the tabletop serving as the only barrier between him and Ryoga's very-soon-to-be-compromised dignity.  
  
IV had given him a hard time—or rather,  _continued_  to give him a hard time—when Ryoga had suggested they meet up at a bubble tea joint. “Of course a kid like you would hang out there,” he'd said, with a mocking smile, but he'd glided up to the counter and ordered his unnecessarily complicated almond slush with no boba and three different kinds of jelly, and Ryoga'd rolled his eyes and re-confirmed that IV was, unquestionably, full of shit.  
  
But not full of shit, Ryoga hopes, in the way that matters in this particular instance.  
  
“I need.” Ryoga clears his throat, and IV raises an eyebrow. “I need some advice.”  
  
IV stops playing with his straw and looks shocked for a split-second before his face returns to a more familiar, insufferable grin. “Ryoga!” He sounds absolutely, positively delighted, and Ryoga wants to take the straw and shove the pointy end through one of his eye sockets. IV continues, “I'm so glad that you have the good sense to come to me in your time of need.”  
  
Ryoga feels his brows knit together and wishes desperately that IV would choke on his own smugness, if not on his repulsive drink of choice. He can't remember for the life of him why he'd thought this would be a good idea. But then he sees the way the other patrons of the place are stealing glances at IV, putting their heads together and giggling from behind their hands. Ryoga'd been in the spotlight, too, but IV was the one with the incomprehensible charisma, drawn to attention like a particularly flashy moth to a flame. So he had to know a thing or two about—this.  
  
Ryoga pointedly doesn't make eye contact when he says, “I need,” his voice falters, “love advice.” The basket of french fries is very interesting. He stares and hopes some object will have the good fortune to fall on him and crush him for voluntarily subjecting himself to this.  
  
IV's eyebrows just about fly off his forehead, and he laces his fingers together and props his chin on his hands. “Do continue.”  
  
Ryoga does not want to continue. Ryoga transfers the desire for the same object from before to fall on IV instead. But he's come this far in single-handedly tearing his own dignity to shreds, so he might as well, right? He doesn't  _like_  IV, and he doesn't want IV to like him, even if he's settled into about as much of a comfortable apathy is possible toward someone who literally set your younger sister on fire. He doesn't respect IV, and he really shouldn't care what he thinks. There's a twisted kind of logic in it, then—all that makes it okay for him to more or less completely embarrass himself in front of IV, because at least he's not someone he cares about. Not Rio, not even Kaito, and definitely not—Yuma.  
  
Ryoga takes a breath and watches the condensation drip down the side of his barely-touched cup. (Taro with pudding, which wasn't his favorite, but Rio's, and somehow it'd been the first thing to come to mind when he'd opened his mouth at the counter.)  
  
“So there's this person I like.”  
  
“I never would've expected,” IV cuts in.  
  
“You told me to continue,” says Ryoga, hands curling into fists in his lap as he does his best not to raise his voice.  
  
IV smiles, leans back in his chair, and takes a sip of his drink.  
  
“Never mind,” says Ryoga. This was an awful idea, and he can't imagine what compelled him to go this far. “You're not going to be helpful at all, are you.”  
  
“Well,” says IV, setting his cup down delicately on the table. “You hate me.”  
  
“Stunning observation,” Ryoga mutters.  
  
IV carries on, undeterred. “You hate me, so if you're coming to me for advice, you must really be at a loss as to what to do about your tragic love life. And if you're that desperate, it's probably a lost cause. And you must already know that. You're a lot of less-than-delightful things, but you're not  _that_  stupid.”  
  
Ryoga glares, stabbing his straw around in his boba. For avoidance of actually having to reply, he takes a drink.  
  
IV flashes him a grin, and he knows it can't mean anything good. “So go out with me instead,” says IV.  
  
Ryoga chokes. “Don't fuck with me!” he manages before dissolving into a coughing fit.  
  
“But you make it so easy. I'm not kidding, though,” says IV, still grinning.  
  
All the retorts running through Ryoga's mind can't even begin to express the depths of his aggravation. He glares harder and says, “Every moment you exist makes my life that much worse.”  
  
That makes IV grin wider. “That's not a 'no'.”  
  
Ryoga's better judgment has been severely impaired ever since he came up with this ridiculous scheme in the first place, so he gives up on it and considers his options. IV has a nice face, and he paid for both of them today, and he looks like he'd be pretty nice to kiss. Among other things.  
  
His standards really aren't very high.  
  
He meets IV's eyes straight-on for probably the first time in this entire ludicrous exchange and says, “That's not a no.”  
  
At this point, IV's smile wouldn't look out of place on a particularly enthusiastic jack-o-lantern. Ryoga can feel the smugness radiating off him in waves, and it pisses him off.  
  
He narrows his eyes. “Fuck you.”  
  
“Is that the plan?” IV says.  
  
Ryoga throws a french fry at his face.


End file.
